Exhale
by Insert-Name-Here01
Summary: Post-movie Not only avoided like the plague as before, Pitch has been branded as a criminal. He has lost control of his nightmares which have become an independent entity all together and a new sprite has been elevated to Gaurdian status. As a vindictive spirit, Pitch cannot let this stand and goes out on a mission to take down an old friend and make ends meet. terrible summary.
1. Chapter 1

Breath in.

Breath out.

_Nice and steady, Pitch_. The bow string was held taught as the exiled spirit drew the arrow. Unlike the first, this was made of real wood and feather; the bow and string genuine. He had lost all control of his black sand when they developed a mind of their own. No; when _it_ developed a mind of _its_ own, becoming an independent being entirely. It had been so long since he was trapped in that shadow enveloped hell of nightmare and torment. He shook the thought from his head. The hood on his head almost falling off; his long robe had long since been discarded. It proved too difficult to move in and after his 'punishment' it was torn to shreds by the nightmares. He still dressed in black attire but it consisted in a jacket, pants, and hunting boots. Short and sweet.

Breath in.

Breath out.

_You have to focus, Pitch_. He had found _him_, the one he was looking for, hanging out with Jack and the Sandman. _He_ had just been assigned a Guardian. And even though Pitch had held a grudge against them, he would not allow _him_ to threaten the world. No. There was no exception. The Guardians, if Pitch were to be caught, would think he had taken another innocent life. They might even go as far as to accuse him of trying to kill the Sandman instead of...

Pitch had to focus, especially on the wind. There was a slight breeze; the target wasn't moving which made it easier. Aim a little towards the left and—

The arrow whizzed from the bow, silently grazing Jack's shoulder and penetrating the earth. From within the safety of the forest, Pitch could hear Jack yelp out in pain and shock. The wind had dropped him from where he was hovering as the sprite clutched his shoulder.

There were genuine looks of alarm from the other two Guardians, though when _he_ scanned the forest, there was only keen interest. Pitch knew he had been spotted, and the look on his old friend's face was one of amusement. It was quickly replaced with false concern as the new guardian turned to Jack; he was good at wearing masks like that. He urgently spoke to the two, probably telling them to get the other guardians. He then pointed in Pitch's direction, making the boogeyman's blood run cold.

Pitch couldn't waste another moment, fear, yes—the boogeyman's own fear, had made him fumble with his arrow.

Breath in.

Breath out.

_You have to calm down_, he scolded himself, or you'll never get the shot. He drew the arrow again. That mask of false concern was replaced with irritation as an arrow flew past the new Guardian's left ear. He was making his way towards him now and the thought of confrontation made bile rise in the back of Pitch's throat. He watched as Sandy and Jack fly off before disappearing into the shadows.

Even though it was only a decade since is fiasco, Pitch had been left a wreck. For his confidence, there was none and sleep less than that. From dusk to dawn it was filled with night terrors and from dawn to dusk hallucinations. He had become paranoid, spineless, weak and most of all, terrified. He emerged from the shadow of a tree a good thirty feet deeper in the woods. He had to be careful were he went or what he thought when he was traveling in the shadows. If he thought of home, it would bring him back to the black sand. He hardly made it out the first time; being so weak he couldn't manipulate the shadows around him. Only when the sand had rested had he managed to find an opening and escape.

That's why he only traveled small distances, it was less of a risk which balanced out the hazard he was already performing, or had preformed. Speaking of darkness, it had begun to settle as the last bit of light, like blood, drained from sky. He started with a quick walk, looking behind him every so often. He felt disappointed, more than that, he felt worried. He had missed his target twice, hurt Jack without meaning to and… and… _he_ knew, that man, the old friend and the new enemy, knew.

He might as well come out to the open and scream 'hey guys! Look at me! Haven't you missed me!? It's—'

"Pitch?"

Pitch seemed to have jumped out of his skin when he heard his name called; it had been so long since he heard something human. Yet, it was the wrong kind of human, it was, "August?" he said this more like a dreaded statement than a question.

The man that stood before him was around his age, tall with a head of thick brown, almost black hair that played wild waves on his head; his face held two piercing green eyes like sharp jade. The same haunting eyes that were so hard to read and that sly smile that indicated something was up, "So" August said, the light tone in his voice hiding something, "Did you do this to me?" He turned his head slightly to show the grazed line that decorated the side of his scalp just above his ear, "It's not deep, but it's sure as hell bleeding a lot, now isn't it?" his voice was soft and slightly husky.

He took a step forward and Pitch took a step back. August observed Pitch and laughed, "Wow… only a decade and you're a mess."

"Says you" Pitch sneered. It was true though, Pitch now longer held that certain pride or cockiness. He was slightly hunched over and looked tired, his face sunken and his once piercing eyes now dim. He clutched his bow, "What do you want?" he asked brusquely.

August slowly began to circle him, Pitch never failing to watch him carefully, "why" August started, "I just wanted to know why you tried killing me."

"You know why, August."

August stopped and something savage shown in his eyes as he slightly craned his neck, "Say it." He said through gritted teeth.

"I can't let you be a Guardian."

There was a flash of disappointment; this obviously wasn't the answer August was expecting, "Oh, is someone jealous?" He taunted, the smile playing on his face.

Pitch scowled and backed up into a tree were he ended walking out the shadow of another a good forty yards away. He looked behind him, _good_, he thought, he never knew it was that easy to lose him. _What an idiot._ He turned around and jumped back at the sight of August's face taking up his vision, "Miss me?" he asked, cocking his head. The mannerism was small but it was enough for Pitch to want to snap his neck. Frustrated, Pitch backed up into another shadow and was now even deeper in the woods, only to find August waiting for him on the other side, "leave me alone; I mistaken you for game." he growled.

August let out a boisterous laugh, "Don't fool yourself, Pitch! I knew you were trying to kill me!"

"Sadly I missed."

"Gladly you missed."

"Well then, I guess it makes up for—" Pitch stopped himself.

"Come on, Pitch, say it. Tell me why you want revenge."

"I don't want revenge." He lied, "I am past that incident."

"That's a load of bull and you and I know that." He walked towards Pitch and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Pitch attempted to slink away but August's grip tightened preventing Pitch from going anywhere, "What I have noticed in spirits is that they tend to fall back into things. Kind of like a broken record but not quite. For instance, you were hell bent on revenge in your last life and in this one; especially in the first battle with the Guardians. And now that I'm on the map, you have an issue with me."

Pitch was taken aback, "How did you know about the—"

"The fight? With the Guardians? Normally I would go to tell you that such a skirmish is bound to be like a wildfire and I would catch word with it. But to be honest, I had kept a close eye on you Pitch; that until you were pulled down into that dreaded pit of yours."

_Hah, honesty_. Pitch never knew the man had that in his vocab. This new piece of information had greatly disturbed him; exactly how long had he been watching him? Pitch went to open his mouth to say something when August cut him off, "shhhh…. Do you hear that?"

All Pitch heard was the hiss of nocturnal bugs waking up to the start of a new night. August drew away from Pitch, looking up at the sky, "I think…" he started, looking at Pitch and then up at the sky, "I think it might be the Gaurdians I called for." He looked back as Pitch as he drew his eyes away from the sky, making eye contact and with a wicked grin he hissed, "You better run."

Pitch blinked and August had vanished. There were the sound of sleigh bells and the whooping and hollering indicating the Guardian's arrival. Pitch fearfully glanced up towards the sky; the hunt was on.


	2. Chapter 2

Tooth zipped across the sky, scanning the forest below; that's where she saw the huntsman; "There!" she called back, pointing her curved sword in Pitch's direction. Jack, despite his slight injury, insisted on accompanying the Guardians, "Don't forget to keep an eye out for August!" Jack yelled over the roar of the wind rushing past the sleigh. He didn't wait for North to land; jumping off he dived into the forest with Tooth behind him, wind whistling past his ears.

Pitch was running now, he momentarily thought of hiding but instinct screamed otherwise. With his hood up and his bow slung around his shoulder, he sprinted through the thick forest. The noise of hissing bugs drowned out by the sound of blood pounding in his ears. Maybe they wouldn't notice him; but he knew with a certain dread that they would. Wearing all black and shifting through the shadows was a dead giveaway.

He wished he could travel back home, back to the safety of his cavern. _But there was no home; not any more at least_. He emerged from a shadow and continued sprinting; an icy blast whizzed past his ear and froze the earth a little ways ahead, "Hey, Stop!" Jack barked.

Looking back to see Frost, Pitch tripped over a tree root, flying head over heels down a steep hill. Narrowly missing several boulders that have the potential to crack his skull, Pitch landed roughly on the forest floor. He sharply inhaled air and dirt. Rolling on his back and gaining his breath he picked his head up, his hood falling off. Black eyes met blue and Jack's widened with realization, "Pitch?"

Pitch wasted no time, scrambling to his feet he dodged another icy attack. He went through another shadow and out another gaining a few feet ahead. The boogeyman barely had time to duck before Tooth zipped past him, nearly impaling him with her swords. He shifted through another shadow only to be tripped by Bunnymund on the other side, "Where yah goin' mate?" He asked in his thick Australian accent.

Pitch got up, breathing heavily from the chase, blood trickling from his forhead, "Well I'll be damned." Bunny whispered as be saw Pitch's face, "It's the bloody boogeyman"

Pitch backed up into North and whirled around to see the Russian tower before him baring two blades. He was surrounded and Pitch's lanky figure seemed to shrink at the thought of confronting the Gaurdians.

"Hello, Pitch"

He spun around to see August standing there with the Gaurdians looking smug; it wasn't the first time August deceived him. Pitch opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it again. There was nothing to say, all he knew was that he had to escape, anywhere was better than here. He mentally tugged at the shadows that lied by his feet, trying to mend them to his form but to no avail. Panic rose as he couldn't manipulate the shadows, he was having a temporary 'black out' with his powers; it was as if a special nerve had stalled.

"What is it that you want, Pitch?" North said, his voice gruff.

"You tried killing Sandy, didn't you?" Jack said. Despite his fear, Pitch smirked; he knew they would accuse him of that; they were so predictable. However, this slight fracture of expression had been misinterpreted among the crowd.

"Why, Pitch?" Tooth asked her voice as cold and unforgiving as her stare.

"It wasn't Sandy I was after." Pitch hissed, grinning to hide the fear and panic that matched his racing heart.

North growled and stepped forward raising his swords slightly for intimidation, "We don't need your two sense, Pitch."

The boogeyman man shrunk back and glared at North, "I speak simply and I mean what I mean." It took a lot of him to straighten up and to look North in the eye, "I swear I wasn't after the Sandman."

"All right, then who was it then?" Bunny said, taking a step closer. Pitch turned around to face the large beast, sidestepping so that he wasn't so close, "I was trying to kill August" He spat, turning attention to the man that the Guardians had welcomed with open arms, "But I guess that didn't work out." Pitch inwardly kicked himself, he was so close.

August took a step closer, drawing a dirk, "Better luck next time, Pitch" the circle had gotten uncomfortably closer. Pitch noticed that August had pulled out his weapon; he did a terrible job at concealing this motion, especially with the moon reflecting off of its silver—

Something hard hit the back of his head, and the Guardians seemed to be standing horizontal. That's when Pitch hit the ground with a dull thud and everything faded to a familiar darkness. North looked down with a mixture of distaste and sympathy before he scooped up the limp body, "That was good distraction, August"

August sheathed his dirk and gave a wry smile, _right_, "Yeah, distraction."

Jack hovered next to North, "How long do you think till he wakes?"

"I don't know, but let's not find out"

The small group seemed to relax as they walked back to the sleigh, "Funny..." Tooth murmured, "This was a bit too easy if you ask me."

"Well, it was five to one" August said with nonchalance, "You'd think with no believers or his black sand, taking Pitch would be easy."

The Guardian's mounted the sleigh placing the unconscious boogeyman in North's infamous bag, "Uh…exactly where are we going to put him?" Jack asks, taking his seat. He inwardly laughed, remembering how he was delivered similarly to the North Pole.

"Just because you been in workshop, does not mean you know workshop. We have a good place where he goes" and with that, the sleigh took off as North threw his snow globe before them, opening the wispy portal door.


	3. Chapter 3

Pitch woke up to the feeling of a cold, stony floor and a dull throbbing from the back of his head. Upon waking, the dark had welcomed him and his immediate thought was that he was back in his original layer with the beast. Groaning, half in fear and half in pain, he got up. Slightly dizzy, he began to search the darkness. Worn hands met rough wall and he followed it a few feet till he came to a long, thick pole, on a width that would allow his hands to clasp it. There was another and then another and another. One by run, the poles ran up the height of floor to ceiling across the small room; he was in a cell.

A cold draft met him and he froze, "Hello?" his voice was hoarse and weary.

"Yeah, I'm kind of surprised too, never knew North had a freaking prison down beneath his toy shop."

Pitch's lips drew back in disgust and hate; _Frost_.

"Yeah, it used to act as a coal mine but once that whole coal tradition-thing fell, he didn't have any use for it. So now it's a makeshift jail? He told me he built it in mind with several 'incidents' that happened; but there was nothing more than that."

Pitch tried bending the shadows to his will but instead of freezing up on him, the shadows simply refused, causing him to curse under his breath.

"Oh, take a look at what you got on your wrist"

Pitch did and a deep frown was etched into his grey face. There were two silver cuffs, like wide and tight bracelets, attached to his wrists. Both had an etching of a moon on them. _Damn you, MiM._

"Yup; never knew they existed. MiM gave them to us, they prevent powers or whatever" Jack waved his hand at the lack of words he could find. Shrugging, he continued, "Anyhow, it's pretty convenient, huh?"

Pitch looked from his wrists to Jack in disgust, "sure."

There was a moment of silence before Jack spoke up again, "You said you wanted to kill August, right?"

Pitch, whose eyes had quickly adjusted to the darkness, nodded, "This is true."

"Why?"

Pitch hesitated, "It's rather... complicated." He muttered. Jack raised a brow, "How so?"

Sighing, Pitch continued knowing that it would be of no use to restrain his motives, "Half of it is personal and half of it deals with you Gaurdians."

"Well, I would assume it would have to do with the second half. But why is it personal?" Jack's curiosity had been piqued.

"It's none of your business" Pitch growled, irritated with Jack's constant questioning.

"I think it is" Jack said crossing his arms, Pitch smirked, did he really think he had authority over him? "August is a Guardian and so am I, and we're family. So of course it's my business"

Pitch, who was leaning against the wall, slid down so that he was now sitting, "Why are you even here?"

"On guard."

Pitch held up his hands, observing his wrists that were bound by the strange shackles. Dropping them he looked up at Jack, "Why? I don't pose as a threat right now."

"Uh huh, sure you don't"

Pitch sighed and looked at the ceiling, "So what do you plan to do with me?"

"That's what they're figuring out up there. Probably just containment."

Pitch snorted, "Can't wait."

"Nor can I." both Jack and Pitch jumped at the sound of August's voice.

"Ha! Never heard you coming!" Jack said, jumping off his perch from his shepherds crook. Jack looked back at Pitch who had quietly made himself comfortable in the far end of the cell.

"I just came to have a quick chat." August said, looking at Pitch with amusement. There was a moment of silence and August glanced at Jack, "alone."

"Oh, okay, uh-later, I guess"

Jack flew down the narrow mine and closed the heavy door. Only when the door had shut did he hear the muffled, barely audible voice of August. The winter sprite flew to the globe room where the other Gaurdians had decided to discuss what would happen to Pitch. Opening the door and strolling up to them he had walked into the middle of an argument.

"What? And keep him locked up for the rest of eternity?" Argued Tooth.

"Well you didn't seem too bothered with it last time. After all, how long had he been trapped?" Bunny said crossing his arms

"That was only a decade- not eternity. There's a big difference"

Sandy made several images above his head making North laugh, "We can't just let him go, Sandy!"

There was another series of images, "The bloke may be weak but that doesn't mean he won't try killin' August again. Besides, he's a sneaky one; he'll find a way to gain power. I bet he's going to try taking us out one by one" Bunny said, keeping his ground on the whole containment aspect.

"Well, when I spoke to Pitch he said that his reasons were based half on us and half personal." everyone turned their attention to Jack, " Don't know if that would help; but I doubt we're his first on his hit list and I doubt we ever will be."

Sandy shrugged in defeat, pointing to the moon. They all looked, maybe MiM could help.

"Well MiM? What do you think?" North asked looking at the orb suspended in the periwinkle sky. There was no response, perhaps the man in the moon was dealing with other issues at hand.


	4. Chapter 4

August waited for the heavy door to shut, the noise echoing down the narrow, black hallway before speaking, "Feel at home, Pitch?"

"It lacks the nightmares." Pitch responded dryly.

August leaned on the bars, resting his head on them as if he we're the one imprisoned, "How have you been holding up lately?"

"Just dandy" Pitch looked at the wry spirit questioningly, "You were down here the whole time, weren't you?"

August smiled, "Couldn't help but over hear your nice conversation with Frost." He cocked his head like he normally does, "So... How personal is it?"

Pitch scoffed, "clearly not enough. If it was, you would be dead right now."

August chuckled, "See, this is why we have bars, to keep people like you in."

"Or people like you out" Pitch snapped.

"I see you got a bit rusty on your archery skills"

Pitch shrugged, "I'm more of a swordsman- then again, you would know."

"Ah, yes. Together we were practically unstoppable. Tell me; how many battles did we fight alongside each other? The monsters we slayed?"

"Too many to count" Pitch couldn't rub off that fleeting sense of nostalgia, of his life, or what he could remember, before he had become a king of shadows.

August sighed and a misty, distant look clouded his eyes, "I wish for the much simpler times, back when we really were friends. Seemed like I missed that train when we crossed into this new life, our friendship I mean"

"More like a train wreck. Remember, it wasn't me who ruined it" Pitch hissed.

"But it takes two to make a wreck."

"And that's just what you are, August, a wreck. Beneath that cool demeanor of yours, I know you're fucked."

August's features temporarily sharpened but he then relaxed. Pitch, however, didn't miss a second. Smiling he said tauntingly, "What? Am I getting under your skin? I never knew you were so sensitive. Wow" Pitch laughed, "How many lonely years have you spent? All wasted I'm sure; you're just taking up space. What a disappointment you are-"

"Shut up" August hissed so vehemently that Pitch was caught off guard, "You're forgetting who you're talking to."

"Last time I checked I was talking to only second in command."

August's features hardened and Pitch's smile broadened, "or is it just a bastard?"

"You're forgetting your place, Pitch."

Pitch's glee evaporated when August quickly opened the prison door, entered, and locked it behind him, "what are you doing?" He asked, panic rising as the ironic safety barrier had been crossed.

"You whip a dog to make it smart; and who ever said an old dog couldn't learn new tricks?"

The Gaurdians made their way to the mine shaft's door; they were going to inform Pitch that he was to be held captive until further notice. When opened, the group could hear the scuffing noise of a fight. There was grunting from being kicked and the smacking noise of fist hitting skin. North sprinted down the hallway with lantern in hand. At Pitch's cell, August held the now bleeding prisoner by the cuff of his jacket, fist in mid air ready for bruising. The spirit turned and froze at the sight of all five Guardians. He dropped Pitch who landed with a groan, "You..." He started with a shaky breath, "you would have done the same thing... If, if you heard what he said."

"Come." North said, holding out his hand and gently gesturing August to join the group, "You can't let him get to you like that."

August nodded with a false sense if weariness. Dragging himself to the corner, Pitch laughed desperately, "What a load of bull shit." He said through heavy breathing, watching the actor make his way across the stage, "you really believe this guy?"

Pitch looked up to see the disapproving, almost disgusted looks from the guardians, "come on, might." Bunny said, "Let's go patch yew up." the Guardians turned, leaving Pitch alone in the cold, dry, dusty blackness.


	5. Chapter 5

It had been a long time; whether it was weeks or months, Pitch couldn't tell. Once he was the master of darkness, now he was trapped in it and vulnerable to its influence on the human mind. The beginning spark of despair had ignited in him like an unwanted flame. Words between him and the Guardians had become nonexistent and their visitations dwindled. They only came to gave him food and water and that was it. Eventually, the reek of urine and waste hung as his stay and neglect continued. August had drifted in and out like a bad dream. Sometimes he would try talking to Pitch, most times just observing. In truth, Pitch hated being down in the mineshaft. He normally enjoyed the darkness and the void it gave. But this darkness held something.

It concealed strange noises; whether it came from Pitch's mind or the bowls of the hollow mine. Sometimes he could hear the pit-pattering of feet or scuffing of boot amongst the gritty floor, the sound of men murmuring, chuckling, and heavy breathing. He had all called out to see if it was the Guardians, but the noise would vanish as quickly as it came. He once heard loud boisterous laughter echoing from deep within the mine. Another sounded more like a cackle. He often felt like he was watched, but not from the sharp eyes of August.

He remembered being jarred awake to the sound of a blood curdling scream. Once he asked North about the sounds and was regarded with a strange look and a bowl of lukewarm porridge. And then, there was that draft that seemed to have a mind of its own. Sometimes damp, sometimes dry; whenever it came, it brought a cold, oppressiveness to it—one opposite to what Jack Frost carried.

Pitch had curled up by the bars in the front corner, shivering and miserable. That's when he heard the heavy door open and shut. Tooth hummed nervously as she floated down the black hallway with a bowl of porridge. She arrived at the make shift but sturdy cell, peering in with eyes that had not yet adjusted to the darkness, "Pitch?" she called out, completely missing him in front of her. He could smell the fear on her and drank it in. It had been so long since he had tasted something so sweet. He shot his hand through the cell and grabbed a hold of her ankle. The sudden movement and sudden contact had scared Toothiana, making her drop Pitch's meal and fall to the floor.

The sudden burst of fear further fed Pitch, making his grasp tighter to the point where it pained Tooth. The fairy quickly regained her composure and forced herself not to wince, "Let go, Pitch" she said in a steely voice. Pitch smiled, he could still sense the fear beneath the surface, "Not until you tell me how much longer I have to stay here and how long it's been."

"I'll tell you once you let go."

Pitch didn't let go and Tooth didn't budge, "Let me go, and I'll tell you." Pitch could feel that his grasp was loosening and her fear slipping into annoyance. Taking the opportunity, Tooth yanked her ankle from Pitch and was set free. Standing up, she looked at him with a strange expression. It was composed of half sympathy and frustration. There was a moment of silence as Tooth debated whether or not to tell Pitch what he asked for.

That's when she zipped off and Pitch quickly got to his feet, "Wait! Please, Tooth!" he called out, "At least tell me how long it's been!"There was silence and then, at the end of the hallway, "two decades" before the shutting of a heavy door.

Pitch sunk to the floor, "twenty years?" he repeated with despair. There was a spark of fury inside him. It is taking them twenty damn years to figure out what to do with him!? Or since he's out of sight out of mind it doesn't matter anymore? _Man in the moon, _he thought bitterly to himself, "You're just leaving me down here to rot because it's more convenient for you, huh!?" He yelled out, his words quickly swallowed up by the darkness.

Soon those twenty years will turn in to twenty decades then twenty centuries, he thought desperately. In fact, by now he was sure that they would forget him. He wept bitterly, half from despair and the other from anger. There was no outlet to his frustration except tears, and that's what he did. He cried in the dark where he was hidden, almost shamefully. It had been a long time, but for some reason, this event has managed to collapse the dam that had been holding all the horrid memories. Every damn lonely year, every loss before and after his new life, everything just came out at once.

"Aw, Pitch, please don't cry." August's voice rang out through the dark like a bell; loud, clear and condescending.

"Leave me be." Pitch murmured. August squatted to Pitch's level and lightly touched the prisoner's face who then quickly drew away, "What do you want?" he hissed, glaring at the Guardian through blurred eyes. He pressed his back against the wall, trying and wishing he would melt into it. August, who seemed to have been momentarily on the opposite end, was now inside. Now confused, Pitch stood up, sliding along the wall into the corner, "Just go away."Pitch said, "Can't a man cry in peace!?" he yelled suddenly, "Or do you have to humiliate him every chance you get?" tears continued rolling, "I'm going to be stuck here forever" he whined, bending over a bit.

"Never knew that such a great king could be so easily beaten down" August said, hushing Pitch, "It's such a pity; you were so strong, intelligent. Now look at you, you're just a caged dog slowly being starved to death"

"Shut up!" Pitch yelled, lashing out at August. The spirit, with a cooled demeanor, simply sidestepped. Pitch turned just as August shoved him to the floor, he was about to get up when the towering spirit kicked him hard in the gut, "Stay down, Pitch."

Pitch grunted, and shakily got to his hands and knees only to be kicked down again. The malnourished spirit was rolled over onto his back by the foot of August, "Now doesn't this feel familiar?" he asked, staring down at him with an evil glint in his eye, "Oh Pitch…"


	6. Chapter 6

It was as if the Arctic slept when Pitch made his escape. The night, at least in the black void of the empty mine, had been especially cold. Pitch had woken up to the uncomfortable frozen atmosphere when he found that a certain miracle had taken place. The prison door was unlocked. He didn't know how or why it was unlocked, but he wasn't going to question this gift. He quickly got up and wasted no time in escape.

He arrived at the large door; red paint now chipping off the old wood. He tried the door, but it wouldn't budge. Instant panic rose and was quickly washed with relief when he realized that the door was just swollen with age. Shoving it open on its painfully loud hinges, he quietly peered out in a dim workshop. It was a rest night, the night when work stopped and well needed rest was given to the hard workers and old Saint Nick himself. How convenient. Pitch crept across the floor boards—their creaking like an alarm in the night. No one stirred. He was about to leave through the front door (the front door!) when he realized he still had the blasted cuffs around his wrists. Now where would the key be? There was no time for looking; or was there? No, he wasn't going to chance it. He walked towards a work bench and snatched a hammer. That's when he saw it, his bow and arrows. On it was a small note that read: _you may need these._

Retrieving his things, he opened the door and stepped outside. The cold that hit him took his breath away. The desolate landscape offered no warmth or familiarity as Pitch set out. The wind howled across the frozen landscape, trying to force Pitch down. He was so cold and the wind was so brutal. The boogeyman, a black speck on a blank canvas of white, looked behind him to see North's prison disguised as a safe haven twinkle in the night like a star on Christmas Eve. The only good that this wind had was covering tracks up way before morning; if the sun ever made it. Pitch made it to a jagged incline whose crevices opened up like gaping, frozen wounds. He hobbled numbly inside the cave of ice till he found the smallest nook he could hide in. There he sat down, and with North's hammer, went to work on the cuffs.

"Where is Pitch!?" North roared as he stormed up and down the hallway that led to the deserted mineshaft, "I had one job! One job!" he was furious, not so much at the elves or the yetis, but at himself, "How the hell did he leave? How—" His face brightened as he got an idea, "He still must have had the cuffs on…so he can't get that far!"

He bolted to the 'garage' that held his sled and led to the takeoff ramp, "Phil!" The yeti accompanying him along the way, whether it was Phil or not, stood alert, "Go and get the yetis and elves to search the mineshaft, he can't have gone too far." He yelled at his small, arctic minions to prep the sleigh; the energetic and frustrated deer, with clacking hooves and snorting, did not make things easier. He grabbed his jacket, and in his flurry, jumped onto the sleigh and was off in a heartbeat.

The sun stretched its golden rays across the stark landscape. All that remained was an eerie silence that was so vast it seemed surreal. It was morning in the northern most hemisphere. It was a harder task than the frozen spirit had imagined. With bloodied wrists rubbed raw from a nights worth of frustrating, numb work, Pitch tossed the cursed cuffs. The noise against the ice cavern was loud and intruding in the quietness of the vast domain. Nothing stirred and the silence was driving him mad.

Then he heard it

Sleigh bells riding on a windless sky; suddenly Pitch wanted the silence back. A thunderous cry roared through the sky as velvet hooves graced the atmosphere. Jolly Saint Nick was not jolly at all. Pitch cringed in mute horror as he heard the sleigh land roughly above him. Bits of snow and chipped ice, like glass, fell through the splintered crevices and into the small nook where Pitch hid. Heavy boots crunched in the hardened snow, the sound elevated against the hard walls. Where were the shadows? Where were they?

Sun illuminated the cave, bouncing off the blue walls


End file.
